In My Own Shoes: Begging to burn the midnight oil
I wanted to be a big girl. I yearned to be a big girl. I knew I could do it like a big girl, but every year my parents wouldn’t let me.
All I wanted to do was stay up until midnight on New Year’s Eve like the big kids and grownups did. I longed to see that beautiful, bejeweled ball slide slowly down into Times Square announcing the new year, watching the throngs hug and kiss and blow horns while a veritable mountain of confetti rained down upon them. That’s really all I wanted, but my parents thought better of it. Still, I knew I could prove them wrong. I knew I could do it. “Just give me a chance,” I wailed each year, “and I’ll stay up! I can do it. I can make it till midnight.”
So somewhere around my 11th or 12th birthday they let me win the annual argument. This would be the year,...